In a grain of sand
by Rokkis
Summary: Slash. AU. Archaeologist Damarion Macey is avoiding his own past by digging up others'. However when the curse of an ancient tomb brings about an archaic prophecy, will he let himself be loved by a king even if it brings him back home? DMHP, WIP
1. Chapter 1

**Dislaimer: Not mine... something I bemoan every waking moment sigh**

**Warning: SLASH!! As in MxM Pairings!! Not even going to bother warning you again.**

Chapter 1: Flight

He kept reading the same page over and over again without taking in a word of it. He was pretty sure it was about the properties of the effects of anemone in various potions, but he just couldn't concentrate. He vaguely noticed that Pansy was still chatting away about the latest Gucci wizarding dress, but once again his attention waned.

Draco Malfoy took a deep breath and closed the heavy tome in his lap. The grating voice of Pansy immediately stopped and as he raised his aristocratic nose, he noticed that his 'friends' had their attention focused solely on him. He suddenly realized that the sigh he had just uttered had drawn their attention. Draco looked around at the people surrounding him. Pansy was still sitting on his left on the couch. Her dirty blond hair up in a high ponytail and the top three buttons were opened in a poor attempt to capture his attention. Blaise Zabini was sitting opposite him was gazing at him closely probably in an attempt to read Draco's traitorous thoughts and pass them along the Death Eater hierarchy. Draco quickly turned his gaze away before he really did reveal himself too much and just briefly focused on his two 'childhood bodyguards'. Both Crabbe and Goyle were too busy gazing at Quidditch magazines to notice the rising tension in the room.

Draco knew that his acting this semester hadn't been up to par this but he honestly couldn't care less. Not only was his interest in the politics of the Wizarding World fading but also so was his interest in appearing the perfect pure-blooded heir to the Malfoy family. If he kept taking life this seriously then he knew he wouldn't be getting out alive. He already felt it in the way Pansy rubbed her pea-sized tits on his arm. He could vividly see his perfect blond haired son and saw himself in the position of father imparting the Malfoy code of conduct on his heir and repeating the lessons of coldness and aloofness. No, he was going to break free and he felt that day drawing blessedly near. He only needed to keep up appearances till tomorrow then he was gone!

Clearing his voice Draco quickly straightened his posture before addressing the leach beside him.

"Pansy, dear, you know how I abhor the smell of slut on my clothes, please button up and start acting in a way becoming of a Slytherin". The voice was the cold arrogant tilt of Draco Malfoy, pure-blooded heir. Draco added further to his persona when he turned towards the ever-watchful Blaise and smirked coldly, "One could almost think we had been visited by a Gryffindor harlot".

_YES! And the Oscar goes too...!_ Draco knew he'd fooled them yet again when Blaise smirked in return and Pansy wailed like a banshee and stormed up towards the girl's dormitories in wounded pride. Draco just shook his head. She really was acting like a Gryff with the blatant display of emotions. Just because they were on their own turf did not mean they still weren't snakes. Draco proceeded to politely cover up a discreet yawn before informing Blaise and the two cavemen that he was retiring for the night and that he'd see them bright and early tomorrow.

Waking through the common room Draco nodded politely at the many familiar faces all the while pitying them for their narrow mindedness and sheep-like tendencies. Why was he the only one that could see the madness in the Dark Lord's plans? There was no glory and fame in mindless killing. Shaking his head in genuine despair he continued towards his own private room. Yes, the Malfoy money had paid his way in this world so far and though he was somewhat grateful he was not prepared to pay the price for those privileges.

Checking the innocent looking leather backpack by the bed he proceed to brush his teeth before packing the rest of his toiletries up and dumping it with everything else in the backpack. Had any Muggle looked into it, assuming he could even spot the brown leather pack, he would probably have fainted. The expansion charms that Draco had spent almost a year perfecting were now sturdy and safe enough that he had managed to get a sizeable wardrobe, food, water, camping equipment and most importantly enough money from his personal Gringotts account that he'd manage to live comfortably in complete isolation for months if he so desired. Yes, Draco had worked hard and long on his escape and it would happen tomorrow on Halloween. It was perfect! Most of the teachers would indulge themselves and dress in frivolous and stupid costumes along with the kiddies. The other half of the faculty would be drafted to watch the students in the Great Hall, while only one or two would bother patrolling the halls. And Draco would bet his entire collection of hair products that it would be his Godfather Severus who'd stalk the hallways hoping to catch unsuspecting Gryffindors. He was counting on it. Yes, Draco knew his plan would work as long as he could keep the act up in front of his classmates these final hours.

Shifting into his flannel PJs he snuggled under the covers fully aware that this would be the very last time he would be warm in his 1000 thread Egyptian cotton sheets. _Egypt! Maybe I'll end up there someday_. With dreams of pyramids and dig sites Draco fell asleep desperately waiting for tomorrow.

The excitement of the evenings Halloween ball prevailed the Great Hall during breakfast the next morning. Talk raged all over about costumes, makeup and dancing. Draco himself was sitting in his usual spot, looking immaculate and eating his usual breakfast foods. Everything and anything not to cause suspicion. He sneered at the Gryffindors, especially the Golden Trio with Longbottom, Granger and Weasel. The hero worship around the 'prophecy child' had died down to nothing after it was discovered that Sybill Trelawney wasn't even remotely connected to famous Seer Cassandra and that she had cheated, lied and most likely slept her way to the position of Divinations Teacher at Hogwarts. The lie had tasted too sour to the fickle wizarding public and the resulting hate campaign against Albus Dumbledore and Neville Longbottom had been gruelling in its intensity. But Draco knew that while the public hated the fact that there was no hero who would fight for his or her freedom against the Dark Lord Longbottom himself was thrilled with being off the hook. Although if Granger continued to spew off speeches of morality, empathy and protecting ones fellow wizard, she just might convince Neville to martyr himself regardless.

Draco almost sighed and slumped but the years with pure-blood lessons wouldn't allow such a plebeian display. He just had to get through double Transfigurations and then all classes were cancelled for the rest of the day. His vampire costume was ordered as expected, but he had no intention of wearing it. All Slytherins knew that Malfoys never arrived on time to such events preferring to be fashionably late. Draco was capitalizing on this and by the time his classmates and the teachers realized he hadn't shown up he planned to be far away, perhaps even outside of Britain.

McGonagall was as usual a prude. Draco almost snorted. It wouldn't kill the old witch to smile even once in a while. He just concentrated on his notes to get time to pass. As the bell rang he couldn't help but swallow nervously. Would everything work out?

"Draco, darling, are you alright? You're more quite then usual. You haven't made fun of any mudbloods at all!" Pansy's grating voice cut through his contemplations.

"Don't fret Pansy. I am merely thinking over my the Halloween preparations and planning for my grand entrance." _More like my grand escape!_ He smirked his most charming smile towards the pug and watched as she melted and attached herself on his arm.

"What are you wearing, Drackey? My dress is a pale pink, I do so hope that you're wearing something that'll match..." Draco let her annoying voice fade to the background. No way in the seven pits of hell would he be wearing anything that'd match pink!! He rather unbecomingly rolled his eyes and glanced over at Blaise to see if he'd noticed the same as Pansy. But meeting amused dark eyes he quietly breathed easy and continued with Pansy into the Great Hall for lunch. Evening couldn't come soon enough!

"Draco, darling!! Are you almost ready? The Feast will start at nine sharp!" The pug's muffled voice came through the door, but Draco paid it no attention. He was pacing and going through the plan again in his mind. He was well aware that the Halloween feast started at nine. As a matter of fact it played an important part of his escape.

"FINE!! I won't save you any dessert if you're late!" came the parting shot. Draco breathed relieved. That was perhaps that final time he'd ever ever listen to Parkinson! "Stupid cow", he muttered.

Looking over the room once more he proceeded to double-check that he hadn't left anything behind. Most importantly that there wasn't anything Muggle left that would hint at his escape plan. Oh, yes, Draco knew more about Muggles and their ways than all his housemates combined. He knew the only way he could truly disappear was amongst the mundanes. And although he could survive a good year with his wizarding funds he also knew that the _gold_ and silver coins were worth quite a bit more in the muggle world.

His interest had started when he was only a boy of seven. He'd been allowed to follow his father to Diagon Alley. A rare treat and a treasured chance to spend the day with his father. Oh, how he'd worshipped that man. He had followed Lord Lucius Malfoy into Jansen's Jewellery Shoppe, but the waiting for his father to view the collection had been too much for his adolescent mind and he'd disobeyed Lucius' order and wandered down the alley towards to pub. Now, Draco had never been inside the Leaky Cauldron as they always arrived via Apparition to the Alley. His father had warned him that only lesser wizards came through that entrance and that Muggle world was just in the other side. Draco had up till then never seen anything remotely Muggle and the temptation proved too much. Just a slight peak. What harm could it do? So Draco had snuck through the run-down pub, wrinkling his delicate nose at the dirt and opened the door to London. It was only a brief second. But in those few timeless moments Draco had seen the crazy styles of Muggles, he'd seen bicycles, mopeds, punkers, Goths and automobiles in all colours and sizes. But the amazingly magical sight vanished as his raging father pulled him back. Poor Draco was then dragged back to the manor by his neck and given the Malfoy-lecture Of-proper-conduct-when-in-public speech. But Draco had never forgotten the excitement glimpsing that forbidden view even years later.

Drawing his wand he quickly cast _Tempus_ and saw that it was finally time! The pixies were dancing around in his stomach but he was ready. Grabbing his backpack he cast the _Disillusion_ charm and felt the trickling sensation crawl over his head. Opening the door he quietly walked down the stairs towards the Common Room, which was empty just as he'd planned. He quickly crossed it and escaped to the seemingly empty damp hall.

With his heart beating in his chest Draco quietly walked up towards the Great Hall. He could hear the chattering of happy carefree students and for a second Draco questioned his actions. But the flash of regret was quickly squashed thinking back. No way would he be able to live like this again. He'd tasted true freedom at seven, and he'd be damned if he'd regret it now. Nodding to himself he quickly slid past the doors and moved towards the Entrance Hall.

Stopping in the shadow of a stone statue he held his breath. Had he heard something? Yes! Steps were coming towards him. Draco double-checked that he was still camouflaged and waited in the shadows. Mere seconds later the imposing figure of Professor Snape could be seen stalking down the hall towards Draco's position.

_Dear Godfather_. Draco could feel a growing pain in his chest and felt that swallowing suddenly had become a difficult task. Uncle Sev would be the only person Draco would miss. He'd been there for Draco more times than both his parents combined and had early encouraged him in the uses of Magic and potions. Blinking rapidly Draco tried to control his breathing. Severus glided towards the Great Hall bypassing Draco completely before sneering at the doors and continuing down towards the dungeons.

_Bye uncle_ _Sev._ Draco almost whispered it into the hallway. Shaking himself mentally he resumed his flight and silently walked towards the Great Doors. Usually the doors were closed in the evening, especially so when there was a feast. But Draco hadn't planned this for years without knowing the override charm for the door. Without it, the wards on the door would keep anyone out or in depending. The castle would also warn the Headmaster about the attempted breach. But all teachers were taught an override charm that was personalized for each teacher. Draco knew his godfather's password and that the man often had off-campus errands and was seen coming and going at all hours. This was the most precarious part of the plan. Had Severus not been patrolling then the Headmaster would have realized instantly that someone was sneaking out using Snape's override. But Draco thought he knew his godfather quite well and was fairly certain about the man's routines and his aversion to the obnoxious noise of teenagers. He'd bet right and was this very moment busy muttering the counter charm. He also knew that the teachers, but especially Severus, would recognize his wand signature later but that wouldn't matter when he was long gone anyways.

With a low hum the wards fell and the heavy door creaked open just enough for Draco to slide himself outside into the crisp cold air. Not bothering closing the Entrance door again Draco quickly pulled off his rucksack and opened it. Sliding his arm into it all the way to his shoulder he grasped the hard wooden handle of his trusted Nimbus 2001 and pulled it out. Slinging the backpack on he threw his leg over the broom and flew up into the night. Glancing over his shoulder he took his last glance at the dazzling sight that was Hogwarts castle for years to come. Then turning his broom South towards London Draco Malfoy escaped the Wizarding World.

Any interest? Will as mentioned be slash, and most likely with Harry, but we'll see!

Cookie for the person(s) who recognized the movie-quote!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:... yeah still not mine...**

**BTW: Happy Halloween!!**

He could feel his teeth clattering and the numbness in his fingers had long since settled in but Draco didn't care. He needed to get to Kent. He had planned this and now all he had to do was survive the night and then he'd be on the first Eurostar train towards Paris in the morning.

Finally his Target Spell warned him that the correct city was approaching so Draco checked his Disillusion spell once again and dived below the cover of clouds. Spotting the city lights he searched for the newly opened railway station. Gritting his teeth against the cold the escapee lowered his broom further to skim across the rooftops before finally landing between two tall brick house only a few blocks from the Ebbsfleet International Railway Station. _It's now or never_. Draco thought with grim determination. He knew that keeping his wand would eventually mean his capture. It didn't matter how many _confundus _or _obscurus_ charms he threw over the wooden stick. Ollivander and the Ministry had every wand signature on paper and both the Aurors and the Unspeakables were more than capable of honing in on a wand even when not in ready use. Just being in close proximity to its owner activated a low current of magic that would be detectable if an Unspeakable got too close with a tracking charm. Not to mention the temptation of using magic himself. No, Draco knew this was one of the major steps towards his freedom, and although it meant denying a huge part of himself it was better then bowing down to a halfblooded maniac.

Taking a deep breath he drew his beloved wand out of its holster. Caressing it one last time he resisted the urge to verbally say goodbye to it and then proceeded to grab it in each end. Hesitating only for a second Draco Malfoy lifted up his left knee before pulling the horizontal wand down across the kneecap sharply snapping it cleanly in two. The Dragon Heartstring within its core fizzled pathetically in the oxygen rich environment before turning to a rustic red and then sizzling leaving a burning scent in the chilly air. The blond blinked rapidly before throwing the two pieces away in a nearby dumpster. Quickly, he also proceeded to pull off his black robes and throw them with the wand before walking calmly out of the alley in his jeans and sweater. Still feeling the biting cold he reached into his backpack and pulled out a leather jacket and a green and silver scarf. The backpack would be the only thing magical Draco would own. He had spent months researching the _concealment _charm to hide the ambient waves of magic emitted from it and was sure that he'd manage to hide it completely compared to his wand.

Stuffing his freezing hands into his pockets Draco continued down the road to find a pub, bar or fast-food joint to spend part of the night. He wasn't out of the woods yet and really wanted to avoid being a stationary target in a motel room somewhere. Finding a digital clock in a display window Draco learnt that it was well past one o'clock at night. He'd spent almost four hours getting to the southeast part of Britain on his broom. Glancing around he spotted a still open fish and chips joint and decided to spend some of his few surplus pounds on some food before the morning. Exchanging the money for the food Draco knew that one thing he wouldn't miss was the piss poor excuse that seemed to pass for food in Britain.

Smearing a chip in ketchup, the blond mused on his perfect escape so far. He thought back to his summer holidays when he told his parents that he'd spent two weeks with his friends Blaise, while at the same time paying Blaise his summer allowance accept the lie and ask no questions. Draco chuckled while sipping his fizzy drink. Had Blaise really know that Draco spent those two weeks playing Muggle tourist around Britain then he'd probably tripled his pay. _Daft bint_. The wizard turned Muggle thought fondly. He'd spent the summers for the last three years learning everything about Muggle transport, identification, currency, communication and manners and was fairly certain that he could pass as a slightly eccentric snobby tourist. He would pull it off.

Three hours later Draco was getting close to the railway station again. The Eurostar train departed from Ebbsfleet International at 05.45 and arrived in Paris, France just after nine in the morning. Leaving Draco plenty of time to catch a connecting flight, train or bus further away from England. Perhaps he could even go to the Colonies?

Double-checking the breast pocket on his leather jacket he found his recently acquired Muggle passport together with his new wallet filled with Muggle Euros and a credit card to his Muggle bank account, his birthday gift to himself last year complete with the name of his new persona. Collecting his pre-ordered ticket and showing his new I.D Draco Malfoy, pure-blooded wizard, was left behind in Ebssfleet while Damrion Macey, ordinary Muggle, sat down in his seat 24A on the TGV to Paris and his new future.

AN// Drunk beyond repair reading over this so excuse all spelling errors. This is of course just a fill-in chapter to get Draco away from the cannon and into the plot!! :D

The next update will probably be a while as it's Halloween and I have a huge party planned for tomorrow!!

Have a love weekend!!!!

Cheers!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Puh! I wish!**

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**Five years later....**

The sweltering Egypt sun was pushing the temperature well past 40 degrees Celsius. Damarion, formally Draco, was cursing his dig leader and any listening god. They were stuck far down the Nile at the rather famous Muggle Tourist attraction known as Wadi el-Muluk or the Valley of the Kings. And although plenty of tombs had been found over the years most had been looted by grave robbers long before modern science had ever touched the place. With the possible exception of King Tut-Ankh-Amon's tomb, that Lord Carnarvon and Howard Carter found miraculously intact in 1922. The problem as far as Damarion saw it was that Carnarvon's luck had done more harm then good. Not only had no human touched it since King Tut's burial but neither had any known wizard, thus leaving the famous Egyptian curses intact, something the famous British Lord found out first hand.

But none of this was the source of Damarion's damnation of the Muggle God in the heat. He, along with two other graduate students and six locals had been dragged along far down the Valley and away from the Nile because Doctor Thaddeus Ripley had a… _hunch_. It had annoyed Damarion so much that he almost informed his teacher, and coincidently his employer, that had there been any tombs left then the proper wizarding authorities would have taken care of them long ago. After the rather glaring mistake of King Tut-Ankh-Amon the then current magical leader of Egypt, Pharaoh Nefertari, had launched a thorough investigation of the surrounding area and removed all curses and any magical items left. The conclusion of the rather expensive investigation, which had even included the Pharaoh's personal bodyguard, was that there were NO undiscovered tombs left in Upper Egypt.

"Okey, boys and gals, we're setting up camp in the shade over here, so everybody, chop chop! Oh, and Liza could you inform the local boys to of what to do. I am afraid that the sun is getting to this poor old man" came Prf. Ripley's rather smoky voice from up ahead making Damarion grind his teeth. Ripley loved to criticize their lack of work ethic but the second any labour beyond digging for 'treaure' occurred, the doctor was suddenly too old. Damarion was pretty sure that 56 did not count as old yet even in the Muggle world.

Liza, or Elizabeth as the lean brunette was called, did indeed speak enough Arabic to explain to the six badly dressed sherpas what the plan was. Lots of shouting issued which Damarion could only interpret as agreement. He himself knew only the barest of phrases but then again he'd only been in Egypt for five weeks. He along with Liz and Frank had graduated this summer from the University of Boston and had immediately been signed on as the cheapest possible labour under Prf. Doc. Ripley. The man was the grinch incarnate but honestly Damarion didn't care. He started to study history and archaeology simply because it took him away from his own failed attempt at life and so here he was. Stuck in Upper Egypt with his pale skin that would be redder then a lobster by the evening and taking orders from a chubby American Muggle. The blond young man sighed before taking a drink of water from his canteen and start working. Macey had soon discovered, like many before him, that archaeology was as far from Indiana Jones as figure skating was from professional hockey. Most of it happened behind mountains of books in libraries around the world without any risk of loosing a limb or running into Nazis. It was actually amazingly lucky for the three of them to ever find something so soon. Most graduates ended up teaching and then writing books and doing research on the side.

"Bet yah ten bucks that the Doc will be opening his umbrella and bringing out the stash soon" came the rumbling voice of the Frank Wilkinson, who was not only a head taller then Draco but also twice his width. Not that Frank was fat he was just very… bulky and looked more like a bouncer at a dance club then a librarian, especially with his almost military styled dark hair.

Draco chuckled in response thinking about the horrid American dialect and the copious amounts of port the professor demanded be taken with. "No deal, the way he smells, even the camels are backing off" which got a loud guffaw in response before they all got back to work, listening to the quiet work-song the Arabs were mumbling while arranging all their equipment to the professors liking.

It was late afternoon with the sun touching the horizon before their camp was up and running. There were three small tents for the students, while the Doc had bought himself a nice large tent with a proper camping bed and light. The local boys all slept together in a much frailer and old looking tent a little way away form the main area along with all the needed equipment to help digging and preserving anything valuable they should find.

When Damarion was finally satisfied that everything was ready for the professor's _hunch_ in the morning, the man himself was snoring rather loudly in his chair under the parasol. The former Slytherin thought briefly about sneaking up behind him and grabbing the rest of the port but considering how bloody tired and annoyed he was, he instead briefly caught Frank's eye then glanced over at the sleeping drunk before heading to his own tent barely bothering to acknowledge the 'goodnights' coming from his two fellow students.

Crawling in and laying down on his bedroll the blond brought out the latest novel he'd purchased and lay reading a while before snuffing out the camp light and snuggling down into his sleeping bag trying to warm himself against the surprising coldness of the Egyptian night.

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It was the heat of the sun that eventually woke Damarion in the morning. While the camp had been set up in the shade of the afternoon sun yesterday, it did not prevent the morning's light from shining on the small group of tents far away from any civilized area. The blond groaned before rubbing his hands over his face then proceed to extradite himself from the sleeping bag and continuing with his morning ablutions.

Stepping outside he saw both Frank and Liz bent over several maps while consuming their breakfast. The professor himself was conspicuously absent but then again he probably had a nice pounding headache from last night. Damarion felt his face stretch into his familiar smirk wondering if he could get the six helpers to start singing again. Chuckling quietly he walked over to join the others.

"…I know that Amenhotep III is buried on the Western ridge, but the professor has insisted that the area holds more" came the annoyed voice of Liz.

"Hey! I am not saying one thing or the other but come on! There are over sixty-three tombs in this area and it's been explored over and over again since the eighteen hundreds. You don't seriously expect Prf. Ripley to have discovered something nobody else has?" came the measured and quiet reply from Frank.

"It doesn't matter whether or not we find anything as long as we're paid", Draco decided to add his two cents.

"Macey! Morning!" Came the chirpy response from the brunette. Draco almost sighted, why had he picked such a girly last name?

"Morning Mace", was from Frank. "But you are right. It really doesn't matter that he's just wasting the grant on this wild goose chase. At least it gets us away from the dusty books!"

"Agreed" Damarion replied while munching on his breakfast. He remained quiet listening to the two others arguing about the best dig site. He was about to grab a cup of coffee but they were all interrupted the approaching professor. Damarion glared at the man who it seemed hadn't been suffering from a hangover at all. He was dressed almost like a British Safari hunter from the last century complete with a large beige straw hat and khaki shorts.

"Everyone up? Good, good! I've already chosen our initial dig site and if you would help me direct them Liz then we should set the workers to the grunt work. This is so exciting people. I have a wonderful feeling about this!" The ageing man was almost bouncing on the balls of his feet and quickly grabbed a scone and incidentally the last cup of coffee before heading back to his tent. Damarion fumed at the man's back for his coffee stealing tendencies. Never mind that it tasted foul and all he really wanted was a cup of Earl Grey. He could feel his already bad mood darkening and sense of unease settled into his chest. Suddenly Damarion wasn't so sure about digging up old tombs. He would certainly have been pissed if some uppity archaeologist dug up his remains before putting them on display in the rather washed out and faded Cairo Museum. Shaking off sudden attack of angst he quickly joined the other in preparing the equipment needed for digging and clearing away rubble and large stones. Glaring up at the Egyptian sun Damarion Macey wiped his sweating forehead and sighed knowing it would be a very long day indeed.

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AN// There really isn't any way I can apologize enough for not updating sooner. It was really a lovely combination of the stress by starting my Master, getting the flu in February, being way behind on my studies and applying for exchange studies in Germany. I do have the story ready, but I don't know when I will have the time to write it out and proof read it. No Beta here I'm afraid, so all mistakes are my own and I would be very much obliged if they were pointed out!

Cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I have every intention of being good and asking Santa, but I have a feeling that I am still not going to own any of this any time soon… *pout***

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He could feel the sweat trickling down his back as he righted his himself and reached for his water canteen. After a few refreshing swallows Damarion wiped his eyes and looked around the dig site. He was actually quite impressed with how well Muggles had coped without magic. Their technology had come a long way and it was very visible at the small archaeological expedition far into Upper Egypt. Yes, the Arabic workers had proved their worth with their excellent work ethic but the portable cranes and equipment had helped greatly with moving the larger stones and dirt.

Damarion glanced around at the others. Both Liz and Frank were hauling rock. Frank was very useful due to his amazing physical strength while Liz kept instructing the boys with her language skills. TUrning his head Macey could feel a scathing glare overtaking his features as he glanced up towards the Professor. Ripley had even had the audacity to bring along his camping chair and had seated himself overlooking the site with various papyri and scrolls occasionally barking orders down towards Elizabeth. Damn that man.

They had started digging not too far from Amenhotep III tomb and Damarion could just see the hole and the signs of a previous excavation from his position. The overheated blond shook his head once again wondering why he was out here doing _manual_ labour. A Malfoy would _never_ be caught dead to something so plebeian. And just as the thought had taken root, Damarion Macey mentally shook the cobwebs away. Right. That was why he was out here. He had proved to be the coward they'd always claimed him to be and run away. Wiping his brow once more, he concentrated on the present and glanced back at the rather impressive hole they'd managed to excavate in only four days. Still, he knew that Frank was also beginning to loose hope and even Liz had quietly voiced her doubt about the validity of the professor's sources. Damarion was quite sure that if they didn't find anything soon, they would have to either abandon the dig or return to Cairo for more supplies. He briefly wondered how much was left of the Professor's grant before he glanced at the only group not complaining. The hired help were happy as long they were paid and Damarion had a feeling that they'd gladly work even through the cold night as long as there were enough dollars involved.

"Professor Ripley! I think it would be prudent to call a break. We've been working none-stop for the last three hours". Came the rather firm outburst from Liz.

"Come now! We are getting so very close! I can feel it in my bones" Ripley had even managed to climb out of his chair to approach the edge. "Just a few more hauls and we will have made history!" Damarion eyed the man a bit more nervously. He sounded almost obsessed. He'd never seen the man so animated. As a teacher, he had been notoriously famous for his endless lectures, often holding back the students up to half an hour just to make some point about some obscure historic event. The rumour around the Boston campus was that the teacher was slightly mad and would most likely have droned on and on without even noticing if the students were present or not. Another flash hit Draco almost like a bolt. The image of Thaddeus Ripley had suddenly morphed into the ghostly visage of professor Binns. Literally spooked, Damarion was luckily brought back to the present by Liz' abrupt reply.

"I have no doubt professor, but regardless we wouldn't want to suffer from heat stroke and the findings can surely wait another few hours." She then proceeded to shout at the boys who quickly stopped working and walked off to find some shade. Even a blind man could see that the flush of red covering the professor's face had nothing to do with the heat. Macey smirked. Too bad the man didn't speak a work of Arabic!

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"God. This heat is suffocating", panted Frank as his walked down the rocky landscape along with Damarion towards the camp.

"At least it's a dry heat"

"Small blessings, if you ask me. Don't know 'bout you, but I'm having a feeling that we could dig down to the Earth's corona and still wouldn't even find so much as a animal bone"

Draco chuckled along with the burly man. Although he had initially agreed with Frank, the unease he had felt the first day still hadn't left him. He spent the evenings in his tent reaffirming to himself that there were no undiscovered tombs left in the Valley of the Kings. But still, to use an Americanism, his Spider senses were tingling. Maybe there was something buried here, something unknown. Damaraion shook his head physically this time.

"Hey! You doin' alright? Heat not getting to yeh?" Frank had already grabbed a water bottle had placed in Draco's hand who gratefully took a couple of sips before clearing his throat.

"No, I'm just wondering about who we are supposed to be digging up. Did the professor inform you of the hidden pharaohs identity?" He was pretty sure that neither Liz nor Frank, along with himself, had any real clue about the Professor's research.

"Well… I tried to riddle some of it out of him when he was drunk on his port the other night but I only found out that it was apparently on of them court magicians under Ramses the Second, or was it Third. Either way, don't think it's riches and gold the professor's after. If we actually find anything, the tomb might hold some of the ancient magic scrolls about the Egyptian burial rituals. Might almost be worth it!"

The unease in Draco's chest suddenly doubled. Although the Pharaoh himself had often been Muggle as far as ancient wizarding history went, the court magician was usually magical. Magic had been an ingrained part of the Egyptian everyday life, and even today the wizarding part of Egypt still followed and preformed several strange rituals in tandem with the flow of the Nile. Most of the magicians in the ancient Egyptian courts had vague elemental abilities, often used to secure a bountiful harvest from the Nile, but several had also boasted precognitive abilities, enabling them to foresee drought, war and even the death of the Pharaoh himself. It was actually one of the main reason why the ancient Egyptians had been so obsessed with life after death and also the justification behind why so many Pharaohs built grand monuments, mausoleums and pyramids in their own honour. The sorcerers were also the reason why the monuments were still in such great condition even after thousands of years. Famous with the ability to curse the land and predict the future the court magicians used their renown to make ensure that the lower echelons of society contributed their labour force towards building the monuments and made sure that once completed, the buildings themselves were covered with wards and hexes to guarantee everlasting glory.

But the real unease for Draco was rooted with burial rituals most Egyptians had undergone. If they were really searching for a Magician then the curses connected to the Tomb and Sarcophagus could be devastatingly strong. And although Draco had learned much about warding after his escape in an attempt to hide his magical signature and backpack, he had no way of knowing the strength of the wards or if he even had the ability to untangle and bring them down. Not to mention that untangling wards _without_ a wand was something only Master warders had any hope of attempting. Draco's mind briefly flashed back to the dumpster were he'd thrown his most precious possession all those years ago. Mentally banging his head he knew the sensible thing would of course be to contact the Egyptian Ministry and get them out here to deactivate the wards and search for cursed items, but that meant exposing himself to scrutiny, something the former Draco Malfoy was _very_ reluctant to do.

Draco sighed and nodded both in reply to Frank and his own thoughts. He would just take it one step at a time. He had no way of knowing if they were even going to find anything. He felt a sudden impulse to steal the professor's papyri and scrolls and check the identity of the sorcerer himself but knew he would restrain himself. He had preformed virtually no magic since his departure from England five years ago and the only magical item he still had was the bottomless backpack that he'd researched so desperately to conceal. No, he was definitely not using magic to commit petty theft.

Soon enough the smell of a cooked meal permeated the air around the camp and Damarion could feel his stomach rumble. The smell had also brought down the workers and a still fuming Professor Ripley along with his camping chair. Frank along with his useful size and strength also had the very handy ability to cook some simple meals and so far away from anything resembling civilization Damarion knew he would greatly appreciate the simply meat and vegetable stew. Shaking his head once more to try and rid himself of the doubt and unease Damarion stepped over to the rest of the expedition and a unoccupied chair and devoured the food handed to him by Frank. Yes, no use worrying. Yet.

* * *

AN: Another chappie and quite a bit quicker. This is of course just an intermediate chapter before the grand unveiling! We will of course be meeting someone _very_ special in the next chapter so I hope that you're all paying close attention!


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